


Your Eyes are like Limpid Pools

by Draycevixen



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-07
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-17 17:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draycevixen/pseuds/Draycevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray's on Stand-by alone on Christmas Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Eyes are like Limpid Pools

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Schnuffi](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Schnuffi), [norfolkdumpling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/norfolkdumpling/gifts).



> Written for Christmas, 2008, for Norfolkdumpling who wasn't feeling very well and Schnuffi who threatened to maim me if I wrote fluff. Ahem...

.

Bloody Bodie!

It wasn't fair. Christmas Eve and he was stuck on call processing paperwork in a freezing office.

“Idle hands are the devil's playground” Cowley had cheerfully mentioned before saddling him with it and leaving for whatever it was that Cowley did on holidays.

Hand sewing kilts for orphans, perhaps. He felt like a right Bob Cratchit as he pulled a ratty blanket tighter around his shoulders. 

Some bright spark had obviously decided that as the building would be empty except for a skeleton crew heating was an unnecessary luxury. Meanwhile, Bodie was off swanning about with the Right Honourable Cynthia Downby.

Not that she'd remain that way for very long in Bodie's hands. Bodie. No, he wasn't going to think about Bodie... How could he have been that bloody stupid?

The night before all of the off duty squad had met down the pub for a few drinks... well, to establish a base camp on the way to alcohol poisoning, and he'd decided it was now or never. He'd followed Bodie out into the back alley, fished mistletoe out of his pocket and kissed him. Bodie had shoved him away so hard that he'd ended up with bruises on his back from colliding with the wall on the far side of the alley. Even worse, Bodie had left without a word.

At least Bodie was off until the day after Boxing Day, so he would have some time to get his story together. He was thinking of sticking with a classic and opting for the “drunk off my arse” ploy. At least he felt better for having had the guts to find out for certain that Bodie wasn't interested in him.

Better than what?

 

“Christ Doyle, you look like you're fleeing Europe during World War II.”

 _Bloody Bodie!_ “What are you doing here? Did Cynthia get tired already of your knock-knock jokes?” Doyle slowly lowered his eyes below Bodie's belt. “...Or were other things not up to standard?”

“The poor woman didn't get a chance to find out.” Bodie held up the two bags dangling from his hands. “I thought I'd come and cheer up a mate stuck in here alone on Christmas Eve, but if you're going to be—”

“I'm sorry.”

Bodie let his mouth drop open in a pantomime of shock.

“Won't be though if you keep that up. It's cold, I'm hungry and I'm doing bloody paperwork on Christmas Eve and feeling—”

“Lonely.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to say anything.

“Right then, we'll soon fix that, just leave it all to Uncle Bodie.”

Bodie started unpacking the bags, coming up with a flask of Irish coffee, some sandwiches , a tin of mince pies and a nice soft blanket that he draped ceremoniously over Doyle's shoulders.

“Thanks Bodie, I really appreciate all this mate.”

“I'll even help you with some of this paperwork.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Bodie?”

“I liked you better when you were grateful.”

Bodie stepped back a couple of paces and looked down at him.

“And I almost forgot this.” Bodie reached into his pocket producing a piece of mistletoe which he held in his hand for a moment. “Sod it, who needs it?” Bodie tossed it over his shoulder before pulling Doyle to his feet and wrapping his arms around him, blanket and all.

“Happy Christmas, Ray.” And then Bodie kissed him.

Fuck, Bodie was good. “Not bad.”

“Here, let me try it with both lips this time.”

As the kiss deepened, Bodie's hands slid down to clutch at Doyle's arse, before starting to slide around Ray's hips toward his zip. He broke the kiss and pushed Bodie back a couple of steps.

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, it's not that easy. I'm not that easy.”

“Since when have you ever been easy?” Bodie muttered, attempting to pull Doyle back in to his arms.

One stiff arm in the middle of Bodie's chest stopped him dead.

“One bloody minute you're pushing me into a brick wall, got bruises all over my arse—”

“Could kiss them better for you—”

“—And next minute, you're smothering me in Christmas cheer and groping me.”

Bodie backed off, perching on the edge of the desk and crossing his arms.

“And you can bloody well stop pouting too.”

“So make up your mind. You're the one who started this, Ray. Do you want me or not?”

Doyle looked him over with a critical eye. Of course he wanted him. “Not altogether sure.” Bodie was gorgeous. “You're reasonably attractive I suppose, if I squint a lot and the light hits you just right.” But he only wanted Bodie if he could keep him. “You might be amusing if I have a free evening sometime.” Bodie couldn't know how badly he wanted him. “I think you're going to have to court me.”

“What, poetry, chocolate and flowers like you're a bird?” Bodie smirked.

He knew he should take what he could get. “Yeah, just like that.”

“Right then, if that's how you feel about it.”

Bodie stood up and, for a moment, he thought Bodie was going to leave. He'd long had a problem with cutting off his nose to spite his face.

Instead, Bodie sank to one knee in front of Doyle, staring up at him. “Your eyes are like limpid pools.”

Doyle cuffed him lightly round the head.

“Oi! They are and all. The colour _is_ just like pond scum.”

He just stared down at Bodie, lips thinning.

“I can't imagine what my life would be like without you in it, Raymond. Probably a hell of a lot easier... and a lot more boring. Certainly less picturesque.”

Bodie slid his hands briefly over Doyle's arse, snatching them back quickly before Doyle could get a good grip on them.

“As to chocolate and flowers... I've got a selection box in my bag and I'd be only too happy to melt a bar of it down” Bodie gripped Doyle's hips “spread it all over your cock” he rubbed his cheek over Doyle's rapidly hardening denim covered cock “and lick it off. Make you _bloom_ , I will.”

Bodie used his firm grip on Doyle's hips to pull him down so that they were both kneeling.

“I'm not a bloody poet, Ray, and you're not a sweet little puppy with a red Christmas bow around your neck.” Bodie slid his arms around Doyle, pulling him in closer. “I've got no bloody intention of turning you in to Battersea dogs' home after Christmas is over. I'm keeping you, even if you do snarl at everyone and are totally impossible to train, all right?”

“All right.” But did Bodie want the same thing he did? "What if I want to... frolic with the other dogs?”

“You do and I'll get you fixed.”

He surged forward, collapsing Bodie backward on to the carpet and loomed over him.

“Same goes for you too, you realize.”

“Course.” Bodie slid his hands up into Doyle's hair. “But why would I want to? Got everything I need right here.”

Bodie pulled him closer and kissed him briefly.

“Now why don't you roll over and let me rub your... tummy, Ray, and then you can show me some of your tricks.”

 

.


End file.
